I am looking for Daniel
717 Words
The ride was quiet. The roads curved into private land—lush green hedges trimmed to perfection, marble statues standing tall like ancient sentinels. Ahead, nestled beyond gilded iron gates and high walls, stood the Grayson Estate—a sprawling mansion that looked more like a royal palace than a home. It was one of the four great family houses in the nation, and, by far, the most powerful.
We came to a halt before the main courtyard, where expensive cars lined the curved driveway. Music and laughter spilled out from the open windows.
Reynolds killed the engine. We stepped out.
The air was very cheerful.
I took in the sight—people laughing, dancing, indulging in food and celebration. It was a celebration in full swing.
My lips curled into a bitter sneer. "It hasn’t even been a year since Daniel died... and this is what they call mourning?" I muttered.
Reynolds stood beside me, equally tense. "Should I head inside and bring out the family heads for interrogation, sir?"
I turned my gaze toward him. "Reynolds, do you know what people fear the most?"
He raised an eyebrow. "When they were about to die."
I shook my head slowly. "No. It’s when they want to die... but they can’t."
I stepped forward, and we made our way through the arched gate. The butler's voice came into earshot—he was barking orders.
"Careful with that! It’s from the Mayor of Eastbridge! If you drop it, the old woman will haunt you herself even after she kills you. You hear me?"
Two servants struggled to carry an antique vase wrapped in gold satin. The butler, tall, was gesturing wildly.
But the moment Reynolds and I stepped past him, heading toward the entrance of the villa, his voice cut louder again.
"Hey!"
" Where do you think you're going?" he barked.
We stopped.
He looked us up and down, disgust plastered across his face. "With those cheap clothes, I doubt you have the coin to pay for if you break anything inside."
"This isn’t a street vendor’s shack."
Reynolds turned, fury flickering in his eyes. "Watch your mouth."
He took a step forward, his hand twitching near his waist—too close to his sidearm.
"Reynolds," I said calmly, without turning. My voice alone was enough to freeze him in place.
He stopped.
I stepped forward, brushing past him. "I am Nathaniel Pierce. I’m not here to cause trouble. I came looking for an old friend."
The butler scoffed, following at my side." Never heard of such a lame name before. You’re not welcome here. Get out before I have you both dragged off the premises.""
I ignored him completely, pushing open the heavy front doors and stepping into the marble-floored foyer of the estate.
Reynolds lingered by the butler, glancing over his shoulder. "You’re lucky the boss doesn’t want to see blood today."
The butler sputtered. "Wha—? Get back here! I said get out! You can’t just walk in!"
As he stumbled after us, a voice called out from beyond the hallway.
"Bertram, have you finished setting up the dishes? The old lady’s coming down any minute."
Bertram—the butler—froze, glancing nervously toward the archway. A moment later, she appeared.
A woman in her early twenties, elegant in a flowing sapphire-blue gown that shimmered under the chandelier lights. Her dark hair was braided intricately over her shoulders, and she carried herself with grace. Eyes like dusk. Beautiful, composed.
She stopped when she saw us.
"What’s going on here?" she asked.
The butler hurried to her side, pointing. "Miss, these two men just barged in, claiming they were looking for someone. I tried to stop them, but they—"
Her eyes landed on me. Then on Reynolds. Still calm, she nodded. "I’m sorry, but the family is currently in the middle of preparations. No visitors are allowed. Please come back another time."
I stared at her.
"Are you Isabelle Hart?"
She blinked. "Who are you?"
I took a slow breath, my heart thudding against my chest.
It was her.
The same woman Daniel had shown me in the photo the night before he left the service. The one he said he’d give up everything for. The woman he wanted to marry.
- Writer
